Christine Rhein: Panic

March 13, 2020

Because it’s too late now
to sound the alarm
over the lack of alarm,
over the sudden
wealth of it. Because look
at the Dow, the S&P,
at markets all over town
out of soap, aspirin,
bread. Because of the canned
soups I bought
for my father—age 88,
and the way he sighed
at me—his cupboards full
making him nervous
about the chance that food
and money might go
to waste. Because the virus
keeps floating
on the nightly news, one cell
like a giant globe
of clustered red flags. Because,
while warning us
not to touch our faces,
that health official
touched hers, and last week,
at my physical,
my doctor smiled, sanitizing
his hands, hugging
me hello. Because here
in Michigan—
the first COVID-19 reported
three days ago,
and now, in Detroit—
my son’s last day
of teaching for a while.
Because, after sending
the fifth graders home
with letters in Spanish,
he emailed—Mom and Dad,I’m really scared that my kidswill end up going hungry.
Because who needs free lunch,
math, science,
testing kits, when a president
doesn’t take responsibilityat all for delay,
proudly declaring
two verybig words—
national emergency.